Brownsmith's Boy Part 29

"He'll let me go some day," I said.

"Some day!" cried Ike in a tone of disgust. "Any one could go by day.

It's some night's the time. Ah! it is a pity, much as you've got to learn too. There's the riding up with the stars over your heads, and the b.u.mping of the cart, and the b.u.mping and rattle of other carts, as you can hear a mile away on a still night before and behind you, and then the getting on to the stones."

"On to the stones, Ike?" I said.

"Yes, of course, on to the paving-stones, and the getting into the market and finding a good pitch, and the selling off in the morning.

Ah! it would be a treat for you, my lad. I'm sorry for yer."

Ike's sorrow lasted, and I grew quite uneasy at last through being looked down upon with so much contempt; but, as is often the case, I had leave when I least expected it.

We had been very busy cutting, bunching, and packing flowers one day, when all at once Old Brownsmith came and looked at my slate with the total of the flower baskets set down side by side with the tale of the strawberry baskets, for it was in the height of the season.

"Big load to-night, Grant," the old gentleman said.

"Yes, sir; largest load you've sent up this year," I replied, in all my newly-fledged importance as a young clerk.

"You had better go up with Ike to-night, Grant," said the old man suddenly. "You are big enough now, and a night out won't hurt you.

Here, Ike!"

"Yes, master."

"You'll want a little help to-morrow morning to stand by you in the market. Will you have Shock?"

"Yes, master, he's the very thing, if you'll send some one to hold him, or lend me a dog-collar and chain."

"Don't be an idiot, Ike," said Old Brownsmith sharply.

"No, master."

"Would you rather have this boy?"

"Would I rather? Just hark at him!"

Ike looked round at me as if this was an excellent joke, but Old Brownsmith took it as being perfectly serious, and gave Ike a series of instructions about taking care of me.

"Of course you will not go to a public-house on the road."

"'Tain't likely," growled Ike, "'less he gets leading me astray and takes me there."

"There's a coffee-shop in Great Russell Street where you can get your breakfasts."

"Lookye here, master," growled Ike in an ill-humoured voice, "ain't I been to market afore?"

"I shall leave him in your charge, Ike, and expect you to take care of him."

"Oh, all right, master!" said Ike, and then the old gentleman gave me a nod and walked away.

"At last, Ike!" I cried. "Hurrah! Why, what's the matter?"

"What's the matter?" said Ike in tones of disgust; "why, everything's the matter. Here, let's have a look at you, boy. Yes," he continued, turning me round, and as if talking to himself, "it is a boy. Any one to hear him would have thought it was a sugar-stick."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

A NIGHT JOURNEY.

It seemed to me as if starting-time would never come, and I fidgeted in and out from the kitchen to the stable to see if Ike had come back, while Mrs Dodley kept on shaking her at me in a pitying way.

"Hadn't you better give it, up, my dear?" she said dolefully. "Out all night! It'll be a trying time."

"What nonsense!" I said. "Why, sailors have to keep watch of a night regularly."

"When the stormy wynds do blow," said Mrs Dodley with something between a sniff and a sob. "Does Mrs Beeton know you are going?"

"No," I said stoutly.

"My poor orphan bye," she said with a real sob. "Don't--don't go."

"Why, Mrs Dodley," I cried, "any one would think I was a baby."

"Here, Grant," cried Mr Brownsmith, "hadn't you better lie down for an hour or two. You've plenty of time."

"No, sir," I said stoutly; "I couldn't sleep if I did."

"Well, then, come and have some supper."

That I was quite willing to have, and I sat there, with the old gentleman looking at me every now and then with a smile.

"You will not feel so eager as this next time, Master Grant."

At last I heard the big latch rattle on the gate, and started up in the greatest excitement. Old Brownsmith gave me a nod, and as I pa.s.sed through the kitchen Mrs Dodley looked at me with such piteous eyes and so wrinkled a forehead that I stopped.

"Why, what's the matter?" I asked.

"Oh, don't ask me, my dear, don't ask me. What could master be a-thinking!"

Her words filled me with so much dread that I hurried out into the yard, hardly knowing which I feared most--to go, or to be forced to stay at home, for the adventure through the dark hours of the night began to seem to be something far more full of peril than I had thought a ride up to market on the cart would prove.

The sight of Ike, however, made me forget the looks of Mrs Dodley, and I was soon busy with him in the stable--that is to say, I held the lantern while he harnessed "Basket," the great gaunt old horse whom I had so nicknamed on account of the way in which his ribs stuck out through his skin.

"You don't give him enough to eat, Ike," I said.

"Not give him enough to eat!" he replied. "Wo ho, Bonyparty, shove yer head through. That's the way. Not give him enough to eat, my lad!

Lor' bless you, the more he eats the thinner he gets. He finds the work too hard for him grinding his oats, for he's got hardly any teeth worth anything."

"Is he so old, then?" I asked, as I saw collar and hames and the rest of the heavy harness adjusted.